Offensive Elements
by TesubCalle
Summary: Why would anyone want to attack Sayid when he might be the only one capable of helping everyone get off the island? Kate's encounter with another survivor provides the shocking answer. Rated for one offensive language phrase.
1. Default Chapter

**A/N: All 'LOST' characters belong to their respective creators, and I suppose NBC has some stake in them as well. They're not mine. Just borrowing them. **

**Now, while I honestly think Mr. Locke was responsible for the attack on Sayid, this fic is going to be my personal exploration of the possible reasons why someone else might be motivated to stop him. There will be more chapters to come. Spoilers for 'Moth', I guess.**

**OFFENSIVE ELEMENTS**

By TesubCalle

The third flare was airborne, reaching for the sky, smoke trailing in its wake. Its initial bright flash subsided and it was now sputtering, lazily floating on the ocean breeze. It arced and then began its decent, pulled by gravity's inevitable force.

Sayid had been waiting with nervous anticipation for this final confirmation. He felt a rush of energizing adrenaline. The plan was working! With all three antennae in place, he now had a chance of triangulating that elusive signal. If he was successful in pinpointing the source of that haunting and disturbing message; the iterations counting down the sixteen years the French woman's message had been repeating itself, looping and broadcasting for God knows who to hear...They might possibly get some answers about this island; its former inhabitants; possibly an additional power source – maybe one they could use for sending a distress signal of their own. The transceiver hissed and came to life as Sayid switched it on. The tiny bars on the screen blipped and surged to the maximum, indicating the strong presence of a signal.

"Yes!" Sayid cried triumphantly. "Now where are you? _Where are you?_" He turned this way and that, judging the strength of the signal. Was it stronger to the north? East? West? Sou –

Just out of his field of vision, an unknown assailant had crept up behind Sayid, striking a powerful blow to the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.

When Sayid came to, he was lying in the warm grass. For the briefest of moments he fancied he had been injured in battle. This was Desert Storm, and he had been hurt during some excursion into enemy territory. He quickly nixed that line of thinking. This was clearly not some scorching desert in Iraq. This was a deserted island. His head throbbed with a splitting headache, and the rays of the setting sun were painful to his eyes. Slowly, carefully, Sayid raised himself up on shaky legs.

What had happened? The last thing he remembered was trying to triangulate that signal when...

The transceiver! With a sinking heart, he found the precious piece of equipment smashed; the antenna he had assembled with such care and patience, torn down. Then rage began to boil up within him. Who would be so brazen as to attack him, unprovoked, when he was so clearly trying to help everyone?

_Sawyer_.

"Funny," Sayid thought with a wry smile, "that Sawyer is the first one to spring to mind..."

But no matter how hard he tried to think of a reason why the young, cocky American would thwart this attempt to find some answers and ultimately get off the island, Sayid could come up with nothing concrete. Sawyer was clearly far too unintelligent to plan a covert attack like that. He was probably too occupied ogling Kate or Claire or Shannon, or any other female on the beach for that matter, or tending to his stash of other people's property he had scavenged from the plane wreck. What a thoroughly despicable excuse for a human being, Sayid thought with contempt.

The Korean man? Hadn't _he_ recently laid into Michael for no apparent reason? Was he really that much of a loose cannon? And his poor wife...That woman looked like she lived under his thumb, constantly. But again, Sayid could not think of any compelling reason why the Korean would assault him from behind. A sneak attack didn't seem to be his style.

Taking a last look at this latest and most likely _last_ set-back in his plans, Sayid began the trek back to the 'home camp' of the beach with a heavy heart. What would he tell Kate and Boone and the others? The two had been so eager to assist him on this 'mission'. Especially Kate. Sayid truly admired her unquestioning dedication to whatever scheme he might be devising.

Sayid was returning, too, with some trepidation. Somewhere in that camp was someone bent on sabotaging them. Someone with a vested interest in keeping them all here. While he had no suspects, Sayid knew he would never be able to look at them all without a hint of suspicion.


	2. ch II

Chapter 2

Upon returning to the beach, Sayid's already dark mood was not aided by the sight of the twisted and burnt-out wreckage of the downed plane's fuselage in the early evening firelight of the camp. He didn't see Boone or Kate there. He knew he would eventually have to share the news of his disheartening failure.

The survivors that had chosen to remain here on the beach seemed especially restless this evening, Sayid noted with some concern, as he neared the fire.

One of them carefully approached Sayid and said with a worried voice, "They say that doctor, Jack, is buried in a cave-in,"

_Fool Jack_, Sayid thought angrily, shooting a look into the jungle, as if he would somehow be able to see through the dense jungle and view this latest mishap. _I told him it was not a good idea to make camp there._ _And he's the only doctor here, too!_

Sayid considered heading in the direction of the caves, but was unsure of how much help he himself would be with the head injury. He could be concussed, for all he knew. He would do himself and Jack no favors if he collapsed. Already, enough members of the camp had made their way to the caves to lend their assistance; an extra body probably wouldn't make sense in a collapsed cave – especially an injured one.

Truthfully, Sayid respected Jack. He was doing what he thought was necessary for the survival of the others. Sayid didn't necessarily agree with Jack, but that was no reason to dislike the man outright.

And now with Jack trapped in the caves, that obviously let him off the hook as his possible attacker. That was good. Sayid didn't want to think that Jack would be malicious enough to destroy his plans just to make it plain to the others that hoping for rescue was futile; therefore the caves were the only hope for prolonged survival.

Who, then? Sayid swept his eyes over the beach, taking in each person who had remained there. How many were left? 46 now? Well, it wasn't Kate, Boone or Jack. Sayid was 100 per cent certain of that. Good-natured Hurley, though a little ignorant, was totally harmless. The child, Walt, was another obvious 'no'. Not Claire, who was getting very close to her due date and was getting the closest possible thing to 'bed rest' as one can get on an island with no beds...Boone's sister, the self-absorbed Shannon was another no. Charlie, that musician who was always trying to curry favour with the others by playing his 'I'm famous!' card...he was another no.

The puzzling and mysterious Mr. Locke...he had taken to this island quite well. In fact, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself! How unusual. Locke looked the picture of the average middle-aged, soft, pampered office-worker totally disinclined to survival tactics and the 'hunter-gatherer' lifestyle. Sayid was reminded that how one appears might not necessarily be a reflection of that person's personality and skills set.

Most of the survivors were content to leave Locke to his own devices, especially since hunting the wild boar was such perilous, messy work. That, and having that vast collection of knives was somewhat off-putting for most. Sayid knew that didn't mean people were ungrateful for Locke's contributions; they just didn't see how they could ever really be of any assistance to him.

Even though Locke was absent from the camp a great deal, he was still keenly observant. Sayid was determined to pick his brains about this latest setback. Locke's thinking pattern was almost like a soldier's. He planned his moves methodically. Perhaps between the two of them, Sayid reasoned, they could come up with a reason why someone would want to initiate a covert attack on him - especially at that most crucial moment...That, and possibly eliminate Locke as his assailant.

As Sayid sat down in the cooling sand to rest, he did not notice a pair of eyes watching him. They belonged to a person secretly seething inside, nursing a hatred that could not be eliminated.


	3. ch III

**A/N: Had to use an OC because I didn't want to make a regular character the culprit.**

Chapter 3.

Kate looked after Sayid long after his retreating figure was a mere speck in the distance. The tide was coming in now, obscuring the footprints he'd left behind. She wished him well with all her heart. Kate felt very keen disappointment for him. After what had happened between him and Sawyer...learning that Sayid had killed before...it was really too bad he felt he had to strike out on his own. But maybe he would be able to accomplish something by himself. Indeed, someone did have to map the island, discover its breadth and extent. Kate prayed for his safety and survival.

There was still so much about this island that was scary, unexplained and dangerous. While she felt deep inside that Sayid would be able to take care of himself, what if something happened to him anyway? He would have no way of calling for help. The thought unsettled Kate. They'd already lost two of the crash survivors. They'd almost lost Jack in the cave-in. Kate didn't want to lose anyone else. As she stood on the shore, arms crossed over her chest and tidewater washing around her ankles, a voice from behind made her jump.

"Good riddance," the interloper growled under his breath.

Kate whirled around.

"Excuse me?" she said, blinking at the stranger. Then she amended her thoughts. It was one of their fellow crash survivors, a man named Simon. She didn't know much about him; just that he was one those who had chosen to remain at the beach campsite.

"The Republican Guardsman," Simon spat with scorn. "Or as we all know his true identity, which is _terrorist_. We're much better off without the likes of _him_ hanging about here anymore."

Kate stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm sorry, Sayid is no terrorist," she retorted, one eyebrow raised in reproach, shaking her head.

"Yeah?" Simon shot back. "And how would _you_ know that?"

"How would you?" Kate challenged.

"Oh, _please_!" Simon said, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so naïve. The only reason anyone like _him_ would be on a commercial plane would be to plan an attack or to carry out an attack. Like 9/11. Hell, he's probably the very _reason_ we crashed!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Kate said, feeling indignation for Sayid's sake steadily rising.

"Oh, really? Then why _did_ we crash? I bet he was one of those suicide bombers. Him and his buddies crashed our plane. And now you're defending him!"

"_If_ Sayid was a suicide bomber, why isn't he dead?" Kate argued, almost yelling, furious at Simon's baseless accusations.

"Simple," Simon said with a shrug. "Lost his nerve. That boy's a coward, and that's the real reason he's taking off now. Has to get away from us because he knew we'd all figure it out sooner or later. He knew that he'd be skinned alive, just like that Mr. Locke fella skins those boars. Yeah, what a sight that woulda been...But like I said: good riddance. Can't do any more harm to us if he's out there, on the other side of the island."

Kate felt her jaw starting to ache. She didn't realize she'd been clenching it so tightly. She curled her hands up into fists. Then an awful notion started to formulate in her mind.

"Wait a minute..." she said slowly. "What do you mean Sayid can't do 'any more harm'? What have you done?"

"Me? Only what I had to do to help maintain the safety of my fellow Americans," Simon said with a smug grin.

"Well, I'm Canadian, actually," Kate said darkly, "and in case you hadn't noticed, we've got several other nationalities around here as well."

Simon shrugged. "So what? The rest of the free world owes a lot to the United States of America's military might. Without us, you wouldn't be enjoying the freedoms you enjoy."

"My God!" Kate said. "We're on a deserted island, and you're getting patriotic? On this island, it doesn't matter _what_ we are! Where we come from is not going to save us."

"But where we _come from_ might get us all killed, like your _friend_, the terrorist – sorry, the Republican Guardsman," Simon said, with an angry glare.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Kate asked, growing more and more upset.

"What do you think he was doing earlier, heading off into the jungle with all that equipment and shit? I noticed you were helping him with that little 'mission'. What did he tell you he was doing, huh?"

"He was...we were trying to find the source of another signal on the island," Kate said carefully, knowing that they had agreed not to reveal anything about the content of the French woman's signal to the other survivors. With the exception of Jack, Kate intended to keep that promise.

"And you believed that bunk?!" Simon barked incredulously.

"Yes," Kate said simply.

"Honey, you're much more naïve than I thought! It's a damn good thing I'm around to watch things here!"

"_What did you do?!_" Kate cried, becoming alarmed at what Simon was insinuating.

"I did what any sane person would do: I stopped him. You think he was trying to find some 'signal'? Signal from _where,_ honey? We all know this island is deserted. You said so yourself."

Kate held her tongue for a moment.

"You see? Just proves I'm right. Here's what I figure he was doing, since you obviously fell for his ruse: he must have been setting up for sending a signal of his own, to his terrorist buddies. To let them know where he was, and that they could come here, kill us all and take him home, where they'd all be welcomed back as heroes."

Kate felt sick with rage and disbelief. "You...You attacked Sayid...and you destroyed the transceiver, and the antenna..."

"Do it again, too!" Simon said with conviction. "Just sorry that blow to the head didn't kill him."

It took all her will not to strike out at Simon. She wanted nothing more than to wipe the self-satisfied grin from his face; to beat some sense into him. But there had been too much of that going on already on the island; she didn't wish for it to continue. Still, it would have felt so good to pummel him.

"Do you know what you've done?" Kate asked slowly. "You've single-handedly destroyed any chance we had of finding that signal."

"After all I've said, you _still_ believe that-"

"_I heard the signal we were trying to find with my own ears!_" Kate shouted at the top of her lungs.

It was so loud, others on the beach turned to look in their direction.

"I heard it," she said, this time more quietly. "The three antennae we erected were going to help Sayid triangulate the location with the transceiver."

"Wha? But...Why didn't you all feel like sharing the news about that 'signal' with the rest of us, huh?" Simon asked dumbly.

"Because..." Kate started, "because we didn't know where it was coming from. We didn't want to give people false hope. And now, because of you, there's no hope left _at all._"

"I...I couldn't have known..." Simon stammered.

"No, because you were too busy being a prejudiced jerk! Sayid may not have been on the side of the damn United States of America in the Gulf War, but on this island, we were supposed to have common goals: survival and rescue. I hope you're happy with yourself, Simon. It's because of people like you that conflicts are perpetuated. I hope one day you _grow up_."

Kate stalked off, feeling sorry for Sayid, but even sorrier for Simon, whose offensive attitudes and hatred had led him to act foolishly; destructively. And now everyone else on the island would have to suffer the consequences. The senselessness of it all almost made her weep.

She didn't know whether to report Simon to the others or not. It wasn't like there were any courts on the island where he could be brought forward for trial before a judge and jury. Kate only hoped Simon had enough of a conscience left to convict himself.

_I hope you find your way, Sayid,_ Kate thought, _and I hope you'll never have to know why you were attacked. You deserved better._

END


End file.
